


Bloody Kisses or In Which the Shoe is on the Other Foot

by WitchyWriter



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Angst, Basil Is A Bastard, Dialogue Heavy, Dorian is an idiot, Everyone Is Gay, Henry Is Henry, I'm Sorry, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Quotes From The Text, Romeo and Juliet References, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Victorian Attitudes, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyWriter/pseuds/WitchyWriter
Summary: Basil has been in love with Dorian since they met. So when the boy starts to question himself, Basil takes his hand and leads the way. Dorian can't help but wonder what his own attraction to the artist implies and takes his curiosity with innocent means, ones that push Basil to do the unthinkable.
Relationships: Dorian Gray/Basil Hallward
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. Confusion of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of painting the portrait, Dorian is overcome with emotion and must ask for Basil's help.

He hadn’t come close to finishing the portrait, he was actually overwhelmingly far from it. As hard as Basil tried, and he certainly tried hard, Dorian had always managed to distract him. Not intentionally of course, the boy was unknowingly ignorant to his own form and this ignorance made him all the more exceptional. There he stood, like a modern Adonis, posed just for him. It was an honor his subject hadn’t the conception of.

“Could you turn your chin just slightly to the left Dorian, yes like that.” The brush flicked across the canvas almost on its own, Basil merely its conduit.

Dorian had lost himself in his own thoughts, holding the position without his mind present in the action. Basil speaking to him brought him out for only a second, slipping slowly back into himself whenever the room fell silent. He didn’t like to think like this, seriousness bore creases in his brows and tension in his shoulders. 

Basil took notice to the boy’s ever-changing expression and paused, a worried one coming over his own, “What seems to be the matter Dorian? You look like you’ve befallen a tragedy, come sit.” He led the boy to a small sofa under the grand window and handed him a glass of water. 

He sipped at it slowly, gazing straight past Basil and out into the garden, “Why haven’t you taken a wife Basil? You’re quite suitable for any woman, except for your incessant striving for perfection.”

Basil thought for a moment, such a question had caught him off guard, “I’ve never given it much thought, or had the time really.” 

“Why is that?” 

“My work is my wife, my love, and my child all in one. It’s the thing that keeps me warm on a winter’s night and cool on a summer’s day. It seems unfair to bring a woman into a life where my own work comes before her each and every time.” He sighed and looked at Dorian, watching his beauty in the bright spring light, “Women have never held my fascination as other things have, I find beauty elsewhere.”

Dorian didn’t quite understand the answer, but accepted it enough not to press further. He took another slow sip of water and turned his eyes to Basil, his own inquiries and fascinations playing on the tip of his tongue. 

Basil saw this and grew curious, “And why do you ask Dorian, is there a woman in the wings for you?” 

He hesitated before answering, it felt unclean to speak of the things cavorting in his head. Dorian was confident however, that Basil was the only one he could speak of it honestly to. “Not quite, recently I’ve been looking at my friends…differently.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Well, as I would women. I don’t quite know how to describe it without sounding mad, they’ve interested me more as of late. Not in terms of conversation, but visually.” 

Basil looked back to his easel, Dorian’s biceps chiseled carefully in the oil paint, “I see.” 

This answer made the boy nervous, he knew such attitudes weren’t taken kindly by a majority of the public. Especially not in the eyes of the law, his own talk of such thoughts could easily get him in an onslaught of trouble by inference alone. 

Basil saw the boy’s worried expression and reached out a hand to comfort him, “Stop your fretting Dorian, please. The things you speak of are not a taboo within these walls. It’s no one’s fault that our prudish society does not understand the way some of us choose to walk through it. I pride you on your choice to discuss it though, it’s a rarity for someone of your age.” Basil took Dorian’s now empty glass and stood to refill it. The boy watched him walk away, more confused now than previously. 

“What are you talking about, ‘how some of us walk through it’? If you’re implying what I believe you to be, then you’re quite off.” 

Basil handed him a now full glass, a light chuckle spilling some water on the floor, “Am I now?” 

“Yes. Yes you are. I’m still quite fond of women, I find them absolutely breathtaking. Truly stunning creatures the lot of them. All I’m simply saying is that some of my consorts elicit a similar reaction. Not the same, _similar _.” Dorian was growing agitated at the pointing of Basil’s speech.__

__The painter crossed his arms and raised a brow, “Is that right? Well if you know this to be true already, why did you ask of my ear?”_ _

__He faltered, “I’m not completely confident in the statement. You’re the only unmarried man I know, of a reason I suspected that I now know to be true. I thought you could help me narrow it all down.”_ _

__This excited Basil in more ways than one. Dorian had asked him to act as some sort of a mentor, guiding him gently through the way in which he lived. It wasn’t much of a life though, he could spend multiple days in his studio and a fair share of nights discretely amongst his own. The latter only being when the loneliness crept too close to his chest. On another front entirely, he hoped in his heart that through this avenue of discovery that Dorian would pick him. In what means of picking he didn’t really care; romantically, platonically, dare he think sexually, it didn’t matter. Any time spent with Dorian was valuable time at the end of the day; he was honored the boy sat in front of him at all._ _

__“Then of help I will be, but right now let’s get back to work hm?” Basil extended a hand, in which Dorian took after a moment of hesitation. Being this vulnerable was not something common to him. He had been raised with the idea of keeping such emotions close to one’s chest._ _

__He took to the stand and repositioned himself at Basil’s calm instruction. He had chosen to be more delicate with the boy than he had been before. Their newly established trust in one another made him feel a new level of tenderness towards him that Basil hadn’t thought possible. When he met Dorian, he immediately felt a pull beyond artistic appreciation; although that was there as well. Basil had never seen someone as precious as Dorian before, not just in means of physicality, but in mind. The way he spoke, the lightness of his laughter, he was a different being than those he had met on previous endeavors._ _

__Dorian was not meant for the world in which he lived and Basil now meant to save him from it. Even if that meant showing him the unsavory bits of what it meant to be someone of their sensibilities._ _

__“Would you bend that knee just a little-“_ _

__He was interrupted by a sniffle, “Will I be sent to Hell for thinking as I do Basil?” Dorian turned to face him, the smallest glint of tears pooling in his crystal clear blue eyes._ _

__Basil put his brush down and walked to him, pulling him once again off the stand and to the couch. The boy was visibly distressed now and the work could not continue with his face growing red and blotchy. Dorian fell into his arms, sobbing ever so gently into his shoulder. Basil held him awkwardly, he didn’t want to step over an unseen boundary and drive Dorian away from him. Knowing what he did now, that would have unforeseen consequences on not only his own life but Dorian’s as well._ _

__He came up for air and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “You haven’t answered me Basil.”_ _

__“Hell is for sinners, not lovers.”_ _

__“Is this kind of love not deemed a sin?”_ _

__“Only by those who don’t understand it; And no decent love is meant to be understood.” Basil brushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind Dorian’s ear. Another step closer, carefully trying not to offend the boy or confuse him any further._ _

__This answer did not confuse Dorian, it made perfect sense although it didn’t make him feel any better. Those who did deem his thoughts a sin where exactly the ones he had to be afraid of. His own peers not thinking so was all well and good, it made going out less painful. But, the waking fear of knowing that any singular person could see him slip once and absolutely ruin his existence, did not lead him to believe that such actions didn’t hold some sense of sin. Why would they be punished it they weren’t wrong? Misunderstandings happened all the time, however never to the extent of putting someone’s very name into the dirt. Dorian would accept Basil’s help but he would not take to his guiding like a puppy. This was not a mission of affirming these thoughts, but searching desperately to find their denial._ _

__Soon after, Basil let him take his leave for the day; thanking Dorian for his time and wishing him a safe home. They were to talk tomorrow evening, perhaps see a play if the mood was suitable for it._ _

__Basil watched him go and he couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t known that their relationship, whatever it was, would take such a route. The painter had no intentions of courting the boy, a step such as that seemed to be inconceivable to him. Dorian was too pure, too innocent; he could only see himself marveling at such a face rather than contorting it in ecstasy. The very idea of it made him shudder; he could never. It would kill him inside to see another do anything of the sort either, which is why he had been determined to keep Harry’s ever-prying talons away from him. They had met of course and Dorian had the unfortunate pleasure of listening to his incessant rambling._ _

__Dorian didn’t care for him, but was still sickeningly polite and all that did was make Basil adore him more._ _

__The boy was caught in his own head for his entire ride home and the evening that proceeded it. Dinner was had in silence, making his butler concerned as Dorian usually had more than his fair share of things to say. Despite his age, his master had maintained such a boy-like wonder about him that it made the butler wonder who he truly was waiting on sometimes. He knew better than to question it though, what Dorian lacked in worldly experience he gained insurmountably in temper. Much like a child still, the only difference being it wielded with the strength of a grown man. He wasn’t one to strike, but he was one to throw and rant and rave._ _

__So he was left to his thoughts and his meal for the evening, no pressing questions becoming an unwelcome guest._ _

__The only thing he could think of was the moment Basil took him into his arms. He had felt something besides his exasperating melancholy then. It was something he had only felt when in the presence of a striking woman. The tinge of excitement, a rise of heat to his face, the steady increase of his heartbeat. He shook these things away, denied them immediately; Basil was his friend, nothing more. Men do not feel such things at the touch of friends, despite everything he had thought and felt in days since past._ _

__Dorian had asked Basil for help, that did not mean his assistance would prove the painter to be correct in his assumptions. He took this as a challenge rather than a means of discovery._ _

__Dorian sneered, “I am not one of them. Hell may not be for lovers but who is to say this is love at all!” He became enraged at himself, throwing his barely eaten meal to the ground and storming out of the room._ _

__He ran upstairs and threw himself rather dramatically onto his bed, not bothering to dress in his nightclothes. “ _They _go to hell, _they _go to jail, _they _are to be stared at and ridiculed by the people’s eye!” Each ‘they’ came out more strained than the last, he did not wish to speak its true meaning in his home in fear someone would have an open ear._______ _

________Dorian felt hot tears pool on his pillowcase, “I am not one of them.” There was no malice this time, it was a dying hope bordering on a desperate prayer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Wandering Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil takes Dorian out to see a play and gets frustrated when he takes too much of a liking to one of the actors.

Basil sent a letter the next day to invite Dorian to a production of _“Romeo and Juliet” _at the theatre by his studio. Despite his trepidations and last night’s outburst, he was quick to accept. Basil was still his friend after all, even though their current circumstances were less than typical. That being said, Dorian outfitted himself in his finest dinner jacket and silk shirt; even if it was just Basil, you never know who you’re going to meet.__

__In his naivety, every outing was an opportunity to meet ‘the one’. The love of his life, the air beneath his wings, the fire of his loins. He was so hard set on this idea that any woman who so much as gave him a side-glance was to have his attention for the rest of the night._ _

__With Dorian looking like a marble statue rather than a man, his attentions were quite widespread._ _

__The painter had dreamt of him last night, he had found himself ever so quickly spiraling into a pit of utter adoration. He felt like a fool, a man such as himself falling so pitifully for a man like Dorian. Whenever he so much as entertained the concept of them becoming more than just mere friends, he smiled like a child with a new toy._ _

__He knew Dorian was a man, a person; but such innocence could be molded into so many wonderful things. The lessons he could teach him and the beauty of the world he could show him. The idea of it all would help lull him to sleep some evenings. Then the doubt came in, the self-deprecation that was so typical amongst artists. It would spoil the entire fantasy to a cinder; it was a nice dream all the same though._ _

__They were to meet at the theatre, it making no sense for Dorian to go all the way to Basil’s studio just to have them walk. The delay in their meeting also gave Basil enough time to stop the sweating of his palms and the tremors in his legs. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t nervous; unless prompted by Harry or politely invited, the painter rarely went out into the world. With Dorian added into the equation, he was bordering on a panic attack._ _

__He got to the theatre unscathed, all emotions in check and the happy sight of the boy coming down the road. Basil took him in immediately, the fine way his shirt seemed to fit him and the way his hair shined in the warm light of the setting sun. He had to keep himself fully and painfully aware of where his eyes traveled, lest they land in an unsavory spot or his mouth drop open like a puppy._ _

__Dorian waved his hand in front of Basil’s face, “Hello? Is everything alright? Oh I hope you’re not ill…”_ _

__“No, no I’m quite alright.” He blinked rapidly and pointed to the golden tone of the clouds on the horizon, “Just admiring the sunset behind you. It’s quite beautiful this evening, wouldn’t you agree?”_ _

__The boy turned and looked, a bright smile coming across his face, “Yes, it is. It looks quite a lot like the painting hanging on your studio wall that you absolutely refuse to hand over to me!”_ _

__Basil laughed, drinking in Dorian’s joy like a butterfly to a flower and gesturing towards the open theatre doors, “You know my rules Dorian, they’re not for prying eyes. Come now, we wouldn’t want to miss the beginning of act one.”_ _

__They sat in the nosebleeds, a perfect view of the entire stage and orchestra presented in front of them in the most comfortable velvet seats. It could fit no more than two hundred people and each seat was a fantastic one. What it lacked in size, it had in intricacy, delicate murals of its productions filled the walls; Othello, Hamlet, A Midsummer’s Night Dream. A beautiful crystal chandelier anchored the main room. She was small, but in the subtle cracks in her walls one could see the ghosts of many talents and hair-raising performances._ _

__Dorian was amazed, he’d been to many a theatre before, but this one felt more intimate. Not only in the literal terms, but because of his companion for the night. Basil looked different than he usually did; he was still the same brooding artist, only tonight he had a flicker of intrigue. He almost wished they spent this night out for a meal rather than kept quiet in a theatre. He caught himself looking for a beat too long at the veins in Basil’s hand and flushed. Luckily he was none the wiser as the lights in the theatre dimmed and the play began._ _

______“Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…” _ _  
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____Basil had seen this production in the exact theatre five times before; he knew every line almost by heart and there were no more shocks nor surprises. This evening was not for his own enjoyment though, it was to watch Dorian. The play had its fair share of male leads that made this house a hub for men of his own heart. The boy who played Tybalt was exceptional looking, the only one who could possibly rival Dorian in looks. Not in the mind however, Basil had caught him after the final bow on his first viewing and discovered he was deader than a doornail. The pretty ones tended to be the most disappointing._ _ _ _

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____At intermission, there was a glint in Dorian’s eyes that Basil noticed to be tears. He tapped him lightly on the shoulder and leaned into his ear, “Is there something wrong? Are you not enjoying the performance?”_ _ _ _

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____“What is that man’s name.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand._ _ _ _

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____Basil played a fool, “Which man would that be?”_ _ _ _

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____Dorian turned to him, his face hardening in agitation. He found none of his usual joy in watching the actress who played Juliet or Rosaline and this disturbed him greatly. It was Tybalt this time who caught his fancy, his thoughts swimming full of things he wished would wait for bed._ _ _ _

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____“You know who, Tybalt. What is that man’s name, I must know.”_ _ _ _

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____“How would I know such a thing? Read the poster outside and offer him a drink if you’re so curious. You might just have a more interesting night than I planned.” Their eyes locked together and neither could bear to break contact. The rising sound of the overture did it for them, their flushed faces turning back to the stage with a need for distraction._ _ _ _

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____Basil had not meant to say such a thing and he could feel the boy pull away from him. He couldn’t focus on the rest of the play, despite not caring much about it in the first place. All he could do was give subtle glances to Dorian and watch the way the boy’s mouth sit agape every time another man speak for longer than a minute. Even in the end when everyone lie dead on the stage and the tragedy came to a close, Dorian’s eyes found their way to Romeo’s closed one’s in fascination._ _ _ _

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____Basil did not like these looks he knew to be yearning and subtle sadness and grew jealous of the man playing dead. Dorian would not make his first lover a hollow actor, not if he had anything to do with it._ _ _ _

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____The second the curtain drew close, Basil took Dorian by the elbow and stood up. He didn’t tug the boy, but indicated that he wished to leave. He was confused and pointed to the stage, the actors had yet to give their final bow. Basil of course knew this, he couldn’t stand Dorian watching them any longer and he thought he was to be sick._ _ _ _

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____“Please, I wish to go.” Basil said in a pleading whisper, Dorian looking back with only a raised eyebrow and visible irritation._ _ _ _

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____He huffed, “Fine! But you owe me another evening out, I must see them act again.”_ _ _ _

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____The painter nodded profusely, despite it being a silent lie, and practically dragged Dorian by his arm back out into the street. The warm breeze hit them and made their fine jackets of almost no use and Dorian quickly took his off and slung it over his shoulder; catching Basil watch his arms and hands make the motions._ _ _ _

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____“And what is that face for Basil?”_ _ _ _

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____“Hm?”_ _ _ _

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____“You’re looking at me like a wolf would a lamb.”_ _ _ _

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____“I’m sure Tybalt felt the same way.” Dorian smacked him playfully on the arm, his mouth open in feigned shock and his cheeks reddening in real embarrassment._ _ _ _

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____They started to walk back to Basil’s studio, the night was still quite young and they didn’t feel the need to leave one another. It was a full but comfortable silence, Dorian angry at himself for doing what he swore he wouldn’t and Basil caught up in his mild jealousy. He felt no victory in proving himself right. Dorian was upset and he wanted so desperately to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t need to go after others to make himself happy; he was right there. That being said, neither were really upset at the other, despite their own emotions being because of such meddling._ _ _ _

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____Basil invited Dorian inside and he gracefully accepted. Although it was strange for him to be in the studio unless he was working; it made him really feel as though they were friends. There was a certain intimacy in being with someone alone in the dark that wasn’t a lover._ _ _ _

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____Dorian poured two glasses of lemonade and took to the comforts of the sofa. Staring around the room absently and catching his own eye in the portrait. It was unfinished, a majority of his body still just harsh pencil lines. “Basil, did you notice Tybalt to?” Dorian was still mad at himself for wanting to speak to the actor so desperately. He was more disappointed at not seeing him one last time than missing the final bow._ _ _ _

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____He thought for a moment before answering, “Yes, he was quite talented. It’s hard not to notice talent like that.”_ _ _ _

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____Dorian turned to face him, “He was talented indeed, but that’s not what I mean.” He pleaded with his eyes so he didn’t have to say it out-loud._ _ _ _

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____Basil took his meaning and had no trouble saying it at all, “You mean, did I notice that he was a hauntingly attractive young man? I’m a homosexual, not blind Dorian.” He laughed casually, the word sitting between them like a raw tension._ _ _ _

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____Dorian was struck by it’s casual tossing around, it was not a thing said lightly. He had grown to hate it, how correct it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue when he said it alone in his room. He had never heard another man say it and not in the same breath had such an air of disgust it made him shiver for even saying it at all. This shiver and subtle denial of the word’s very existence filled him with such a sense of internal shame that he’d talk to the next woman he saw, just to make himself feel better._ _ _ _

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____The boy took a shaky sip of his lemonade and looked away from Basil, “I see.”_ _ _ _

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____“Are you blind Dorian?”_ _ _ _

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____“No.”_ _ _ _

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____Dorian rose from his seat and handed Basil his half full glass, put on his coat from over his shoulder and quietly walked to the door. He turned around only once to wave his goodbye before disappearing into the night. The painter stood in his studio alone and held the glasses for what felt like hours before a rage overtook him and he hurled Dorian’s at the wall. He kicked himself relentlessly and stomped on the shards until it became a fine power. The boy would now seek out the actor, he was thoroughly convinced. The point had been to lead him a new direction not reveal to him the possibilities of such empty people. Tybalt was to be an endeavor of window shopping, not his new lover._ _ _ _

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____They had both seen it clear as day just an hour before, Tybalt dies in the end._ _ _ _

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	3. Affections For An Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after the play, Harry invites them both out to dinner with him and means to get the bottom of how strange they're acting.

Basil couldn’t bear to look at his incomplete masterpiece, the site only pained him. He was fully convinced that in his jealousy and pettiness for wishing to see Dorian squirm, he had lost him forever. He threw himself into other projects; a landscape of the view from his window, a still life of a water pitcher. Something stupid and inevitably pointless to put his mind to so he didn’t daydream of the boy. Which he so often did on normal days, looking mindlessly at the sofa which he so dramatically sat and spilled his woes. He missed his laugh most of all, sweet like summer rain.

Dorian had taken a similar approach, locking himself away in his manor and taking little to no interest in his usual activities. Moreso from depth in thought than his now typical embarrassment. He had gone to see the actor, a young man named Charlie, after he left Basil’s studio. He had been more striking up close than he was from the nosebleeds, something he didn’t think to be possible. His hair was an auburn halo, eyes of emerald green and he had small freckles like stars. It was an odd type of beauty compared to the dark haired brown-eyed men he had become so used to seeing; it was refreshing and made his chest hurt. 

They talked for hours, of the performance, of Shakespeare, of London. Then he came to find that Charlie was married to a lovely woman named Sophia. He loved her so deeply he spoke about her for longer than they had anything else. It disappointed him, the feeling of loss disturbing him so greatly that he left in a rush with his only goodbye being a handshake and a ‘good show’. He felt like a fool then for even showing up in the first place. What had he planned to do if he wasn’t married anyway?

He paced for the rest of that night into the early morning just thinking. Convincing himself that he had eaten something that disagreed with him or he was nervous meeting such a talented man. Even though he knew it was the same feeling he had when he saw a stunning woman. The feeling in his chest haunted him, he had slowly begun to realize that he was one of them. Yet he still could not accept such a thing, only entertained it more than he had before. 

They hadn’t seen one another for a week, which in their case was quite a long while. Harry, learning this from Basil, decided to invite them both out for supper that same evening. He sent two invitations separately, not telling one of the other’s. They were to meet at a lovely bistro downtown and be wined and dined by Harry, just enough so that he could learn of their tensions and pry himself in the middle. 

He had a nose for such things and a will strong enough to sniff them out. 

“Basil! It’s lovely to see you! Please excuse me, but you look like shit.” Harry rose from the table and gave Basil a firm handshake. 

He scowled, “Yes, nice to see you too. I’ve become lost in my work again, you know how I get.” 

“Unfortunately yes I do, wine?” The painter nodded and brought the glass to his lips, a crisp white washing down his unshakable anxiety. 

Dorian’s laughter filled the space, causing Basil to choke and hide his eyes from the direction it came from. His chest was happy to hear it and the heavy beating of his heart rising to a roar told him so. The body reacted differently though, and he found himself unable to move. 

“Dorian my dear boy, how are you!” Harry rose once again and pulled Dorian into a friendly hug, catching Basil’s eye over his shoulder and becoming more intrigued than he already was. 

The two sat down eventually and all took to slowly sipping their wine and waiting for appetizers, which Harry took the liberty of ordering for them. Dorian took no time at all to discuss the play which both he and Basil had seen, describing almost to a tee how amazing Charlie had acted and looked. 

“He was just so…expressive! Charlie- Tybalt, truly shows the spirit of London theatre; oh you must come and see Harry.” Dorian blushed slightly at the memory of the actor.

Basil spoke up for the first time since they all sat down, “What’s his name again? Sorry, I missed it.” 

“C- Charlie.” The boy realized what he had said, he hadn’t meant to let the man’s name slip. 

Before Basil could say something smart, their food arrived and all conversation was cut to fulfill the demanding pleasantries. Harry still watched them though, the way Basil’s brow would crease and flatten every time he glanced in Dorian’s direction and how the boy himself seemed to look past him. His curiosity was overwhelming him, he just needed the right opportunity to dig in. 

“So Basil,” Harry left Dorian to his devices and turned his full attention to the painter, “How is that marvelous portrait of yours coming along?” 

“It’s not, we’re taking a break from it for a while.” He took a rather aggressive bite of his food. 

“Hm, any reason why? There’s not trouble in paradise is there?” 

Dorian piped up, “Nothing of the sort, I’ve just been quite busy with some trivial things. I think we can continue whenever Basil’s ready.” 

This surprised him, he was mad at Dorian for a reason he couldn’t quite figure out, but he knew he was. “Is that so? We can carry on in the morning if that’s quite alright.” He smiled, a sliver of hope growing within him that he hadn’t lost the boy to the world after all. 

“I’d quite like that.” Dorian took a sip of his drink and stood, “I have to use the facilities gentlemen, please excuse me.” 

The two men nodded and Dorian disappeared into the back of the bistro. Harry grew excited, he knew that Dorian was too much of a sweet boy to ever admit what he really needed to know. Basil on the other hand, had only slight issues with such topics. 

Harry clapped his hands together and pulled Basil close by the shoulder, wasting no time. “What have you done to that boy Basil?” 

He choked on his food and looked at him wildly, “The fuck are you talking about Harry? ‘What I’ve done to him’? I’m painting him that’s for certain!” It was a quiet shout he took up, not daring to draw others attention but berating Harry all the same. 

“You know exactly what I mean, he’s too naive to know such a world as we do.” 

“And what exactly are you implying, my dear friend?” 

Harry’s eyes turned into slits, “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s watching and I most certainly see the way he looks away from you. You’ve frightened him by whatever you’ve done and he’s only here because he’s a darling boy and I asked for him. So I’m only going to ask one more time, what did you fucking _do _?”__

__Basil wiped his mouth with his napkin, whispering into the cloth so not a soul but Harry could hear him, “I haven’t done a thing but offer my assistance and take him to a play. Dorian’s been taking a special interest to his male companions and fears to be a man of my…tastes.”_ _

__“Is that so?”_ _

__“Indeed it is, I’ve done nothing but help him see for himself what you and I have known for months. It’s been quite a shock for him and he’s pushed away from me like I made him that way.”_ _

__Harry turned away from Basil and took a long swig of his drink, “You know, you could at least be a little more subtle. One could derive obscenity from those eyes of yours, it would make even the most unsavory woman turn away.”_ _

__“Maybe that’s what you see.” Basil laughed bitterly and moved his food around with his fork, “Those same women and their aristocratic counterparts stare at him that same way. Why can’t I? I’d be a fool not to revel in such beauty; he’s a walking masterpiece.”_ _

__“You have quite a point there my friend. People say sometimes that beauty is only superficial. That may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances.”_ _

__“Tell that to the heterosexuals.” He laughed at Harry's philosophical outburst patronizingly._ _

__“Don’t you say that here again. I have friends here, important friends, this is not a place like your theatre where such risks can be taken. Mind your tongue.” Harry was firm, his voice softening only when Dorian emerged from the bathroom._ _

__He had taken his time, washing his hands four times over and staring at his own reflection until he saw spots. Dorian had thought about it all for days on end; Charlie, Basil, himself. Everything seemed to whip around him at a million miles per hour and only at that table had he realized what he must do._ _

__Judging his own feelings by means of a visual rather than an action simply would not do. He knew he liked women not only by what he felt in his chest and his groin, but also by the taste of their lips. When and who he had no idea, but it must happen for all of this to finally be put to rest. If he felt something, Basil gets the laugh of a lifetime and gains a pupil. If he feels nothing, this all gets chalked up to a moment of gross insanity and he gets stark drunk._ _

__When he returned to the table, he felt at though he had been interrupting something. Harry looked like he was about to pop something and Basil was uncharacteristically calm._ _

__“What heated debate have I missed now? Religion? Philosophy? Politics?” He sat down with a cheeky grin on his face, musing about similar conversations of the past where both parties have gotten so mad the dinner table looked like a street corner._ _

__Harry was point blank and unamused, “The unspeakable.”_ _

__Everyone knew what that meant, everyone. Basil, although liberal with his own vocabulary, was almost alone in his use of the word homosexual. Dorian didn’t like thinking it, dare he even say it; but the rest of the country had taken up the phrase ‘the unspeakable’. His previous confidence fed into his shame at the hearing of it._ _

__“Oh, I see.” Dorian shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at Basil, “And what struck up such a topic?”_ _

__Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the painter quickly took to deliberate coughs and clearing his throat to stop the reply. “Dorian, I think we’re quite finished here yes? If dinner takes any longer I might have to eat my own leg.”_ _

__The table laughed lightly, which decreased some of the growing tension, “If Harry doesn’t mind our swift departure, I’d love to have you both over for a drink at mine.” Dorian looked hopefully between the two of them._ _

__Basil looked at Harry, his eyes pleading with him to decline. Harry saw this and sighed, standing up to send the pair off against his own judgement, “No you two run ahead, I don’t mind in the least. Besides, I think the Mrs. would like me home for a change.” That part was true._ _

__They all shook hands and Dorian left first to call the car around. Before Basil could follow, Harry grabbed him tight by the hand and murmured, “You let him down and you let him down gently. He’s too pure for a life of such damnation and ecstasy. Such a lifestyle would break his heart and fill it up too quickly for him to understand it’s even happening at all.”_ _

__Basil pulled his hand away and stared at him hard, “Such purity can not be tainted by the mere showing of sin, one must be willing to put a toe in first. And my dear Harry, you didn’t see the way he looked at Charlie. You wouldn’t be criticizing my lack of subtly if you saw what I had; his toe is already in the pool.”_ _

__With that he turned away and left Harry alone at the table, a small smirk of satisfaction creeping over his face at finally getting the better of him. When he joined Dorian outside, he caught the end of his beautiful laugh and relished in its echo._ _


	4. Bloody Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Dorian's manor, he makes a move and unknowingly harms Basil beyond repair.

The ride back to Dorian’s manor was filled with conversation and laughter. Mainly about Harry and his never-ending critiques and the nature of their not speaking. Despite its seriousness, they managed to find humor in the whole situation and looked to move past it. Basil for the first time in a week could breathe, Dorian was by his side and his laughter filled his ears; all was as it should be in his minds eye.

Dorian hadn’t actually moved past the entire affair, but being kind to Basil to avoid further discomfort took precedence; he was a gentleman after all. He also wanted to be softer to the man, for his own plans that evening would require it. Seeing Basil upset made him upset, he was already a lonely man to begin with and one of Dorian’s only true friends. To destroy that because of his own issues wasn’t even an option. 

The boy opened the door for him and led Basil into the sitting room. It was warm, the low light of the fire reflecting itself off the tall windows and adding to the richness of the wood furniture. This kind of luxury he received by birthright alone was something the painter could only dream of in a lifetime. He was envious, this could be his if Dorian willed it to be; but Basil was getting quite ahead of himself. Forcefully reminding himself that this was about discovery not courtship. 

“Your home mystifies me every time Dorian, how do you keep such a place clean?” Basil ran his finger down the mantle and flicked the lack of dust into the air. 

Dorian came up behind him and copied the motion, “I have the most wonderful staff. Care to sit?” He gestured to the sofa in front of the fire. 

Basil nodded and sat as far from the boy as he could; this was a strange turn of events from his deafening week long silence and the avoidance at dinner. He didn’t know what Dorian had up his sleeve and the idea that he had anything at all made him anxious. 

Dorian chuckled at the sight of him “Do relax Basil, you look like you’re about to cry!” His laughter turned serious, “Now why were you and Harry talking about the unspeakable at dinner?” 

He rolled his eyes and groaned, “Do we _have _to call it that? Who’s really going to hear us anyway, it’s practically midnight!”__

__“It’s hardly dinner conversation, no one wants to hear about regular men’s conquests let alone that.”_ _

__Basil leaned closer to him, his tone turning harsh, “And yet they discuss it anyway, while I have to nod along like some pig. You do realize that you’ll end up there too someday right?”  
  
The boy didn’t answer, it was a question he hadn’t cared the think about let alone discuss. He had always been afraid to doddle on the subject, even in the privacy of his room. He’d come to the cold sobering truth that there was an overwhelming amount of evidence to support that he was a homosexual. Dorian had even got quite good at saying it to himself without crying. But to think of what that entailed beyond visuals scared him, though he was determined to go through with what he planned. 

__“Someday is not today nor tomorrow my friend.” He watched Basil put together what he had implied before continuing, “That being said, it doesn’t stop it from being inappropriate to discuss over a steak.”_ _

__“I guess you’re right, anyway enough about Harry. What’ve you been doing? You wouldn’t tell me in front of the driver, so do entertain me now.” He crossed his legs at the knee and got comfortable._ _

__Dorian thought about to how to phrase his time alone as to not sound like a miserable shut-in; let alone how to not prove Basil right, “Well, I haven’t gone out as much as usual; taking a page from your book quite honestly.” He laughed, “But also a lot of thinking, about…my types so to speak.”_ _

__Basil cocked an eyebrow, “Have you now?”_ _

__“Hm, I have. I think that bastard Tybalt may have more of an impact on me than I thought he would. I went to go see him after I left that night you know.”_ _

__The painter felt himself tense up at the mention of the actor. He knew it was ridiculous, but he saw the man as more of a competitor than the stupid beauty he was, “I figured, Charlie was it?”_ _

__Dorian mused at the saying of his name, “Yes, Charlie. I just had to see him up close and hear the sound of his voice unstrained. He really was just as beautiful and I found myself feeling things in that moment that I had never felt for another man before.”_ _

__“Did you make any moves? Oh stop looking at me like that, it’s a fair question! Have you seen yourself when you talk about him? You look like a love-struck girl!” Basil tapped him on his shoulder as a means to continue, he had embarrassed him._ _

__“As I was saying before I was so indecently interrupted, that’s when he started to speak of his wife and how much he loved her and how happy they were. Don’t roll your eyes! He showed me a photograph of her and they looked like a perfect pair. After he finally stopped, I felt disgusted with myself all of a sudden and shook his hand before running out. I haven’t stopped thinking about him though, which is why we haven’t spoken. I felt so bad for seeing him for one and another I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”_ _

__Dorian bowed his head in defeat, his eyes became sad. Basil inched closer to him and pat him gently on the shoulder. The boy looked his best when he was either crying or laughing. Although of course he preferred the latter over the former. “Why would I laugh at you Dorian? It seems to me like you’ve finally come to a sort of conclusion, and much faster than I expected!”_ _

__“I’ve come to no such conclusion, Charlie is the only man I’ve felt so pulled to. Besides…” Dorian looked up at Basil, their eyes locking and the heat of the fire finding its way into their cheeks._ _

__This was the time, he decided. The boy flicked his eyes down and looked to Basil’s lips; in truth he had no idea what he was doing and felt overwhelmingly nervous. But, despite his body working against him, he closed his eyes and leaned in anyway. Dorian felt Basil tense underneath him but gradually loosen up and lean into it as well. It was a simple kiss, lasting no longer than a few seconds and not deepening beyond the boy’s original advance. He was satisfied and pulled away, Basil still sitting like a statue and eyes widening when he got his wits back._ _

__The painter was absolutely shocked, he had seen and expected a lot of things to come of their endeavor, but never this. Especially not after just a week of real intrigue; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly thrilled. Months of gazing at his perfect form so close but so far away had led to this moment. Depending on how Dorian reacted next, which he had no doubt would be positive, Basil was surely convinced that he would finally have what he wanted. The boy by his side until he took his final breath. It was quite a dramatic end result that he had only entertained on the best of days, this moment now making this one fit into such a category._ _

__Dorian sat in silence after he pulled away, assessing the feelings of his stomach, chest and hands. All of which were in their own series of tremors and palpitations; making what he had originally hoped and yet feared a reality. He enjoyed the kiss, so much that he only stopped himself from leaning back in again for Basil’s sake rather than his own. Kissing led to touching and touching led to a level of intimacy he wasn’t prepared for in the least; let alone with someone he considered to be a mentor and true friend._ _

__Basil put a hand on the boy’s thigh, making Dorian flinch, “If I had known that you felt that way, I would’ve never taken you to that stupid play. Why didn’t you say something, not that how you chose to say it went unappreciated.”_ _

__“Well-“ He gently removed the hand from his thigh and took it into his own, “Because there is nothing to feel, Basil.”_ _

__“What are you talking about? You just kissed me did you not?” Basil took on a whisper, just in case some nosey servant had an ear out._ _

__Dorian looked away, he felt horrible all of a sudden and the guilt crept into where joy previously resided. It hadn’t occurred to him that Basil had any feelings for him at all. He was fully aware of how he was gazed at, he wasn’t blind. But the genuine affection of the man at his side completely escaped him._ _

__“You’re one of my closest friends Basil, truly. I do love you, but as a man loves another man in means of friendship, not as a lover. You mean too much to be to ever look at you in that light. There’s something so tragic in a friendship so colored by romance, so I kissed you to not only assure to myself that it’s something I would actually like doing; but also to assure that I don’t love you in the way I once thought. Both I now know to be true, I’m sorry.”_ _

__Basil hadn’t heard a majority of what he said, only latching on to the last part, “Did you say that you loved me once?” He clutched onto Dorian’s hands tighter to stop him from going anywhere, he couldn’t take the boy leaving again._ _

__“That I did, in the beginning. You had seemed so appealing to me, so attractive. The way you spoke, how effortlessly you created beauty just from a look and flick of your wrist. You still retain a similar level of interest, but I do not love you in the way I felt love for Charlie.”_ _

__The painter’s eye twitched, he was growing angry, “You mean to tell me that you feel more love for a man you’ve seen only twice than you do me?”_ _

__The boy nodded, “Please don’t be offended Basil, we are just of two different types of people. How can I put this gently… you’re older than I am by a few and he isn’t. I wouldn’t be a suitable lover for you by that alone, you deserve someone dignified and well read. I still want to see the world and be right in the middle of it all, not of the settling down type that you seem to want.”_ _

__Basil tore his hand away from Dorian’s and stood, his temper was rising and he could no longer keep up his polite facade as to not scare the boy. He was hurt, unimaginably hurt. He had been so lost in the whirlwind of possibility he hadn’t thought for a second the main reason Dorian had been so trusting in the first place. He was exploring himself, and Basil had agreed to help; preparing for a move such as this though, was not on his agenda._ _

__“How do you know what I want! I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. And that’s all I am to you still, after everything, just a friend. A friend who’s given you everything I am; my time, the soul in which I put into my work, my adoration. Now you kiss me with more passion that I have derived from you in months and you tell me not to be offended? How dare you!” He paced in front of Dorian as he said this, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper. “I love you, truly love you, you divine idiot. Maybe I am the true idiot for expecting such things from you, one who barely knows what to make of himself.”_ _

__“And what am I?”_ _

__Basil rushed at him and fell to his knees, “A homosexual!”_ _

__Dorian’s hand flew through the air before he could will it to stop, coming down hard on the painter’s cheek and almost knocking him to the ground. The boy grabbed him hard by the cheeks, speaking quickly and with volition, “Listen now and listen clear. One, if I ever let you back into my home again, you are never to say that word in my presence. You may know it clear as day, and I even may be coming to the realization on my own; but no such damning speech will be spoken within these walls. Two, I have never and will never ask you to feel such things for me. I look as I do and act as I always have, it is you who have taken these liberties and felt these things on your own. You are a friend of mine, one who I trust with my life nothing less and most certainly nothing more. Finally, I hope you enjoy looking at the unfinished masterpiece you call my portrait, for it will look like that until you come to destroy it!”_ _

__He released his face with disgust and rose, wiping non-existent dust from his pants. It took everything in Basil not to punch Dorian square in the face, he had never been struck like that in his life. The sting, although gone from his face, still remained in his chest. Dorian’s statement had bruised more than his pride and he quickly realized that whatever existed between the two of them had irrevocably vanished._ _

__Basil’s thoughts turned dark as he headed for the door, he loved Dorian too much to believe that he truly meant what he said. He turned around, one hand on the doorknob, and looked into Dorian’s eyes; their usual crystal clear blue now tinted dark in his anger, “As Juliet once said, parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”_ _

__Before Dorian could reply, he was off into the night._ _


	5. The Lover Becomes The Sinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil finally snaps, dragging Charlie and Dorian down with him. 
> 
> *This is where the archive warnings kick in*

Basil killed the actor that night. It wasn’t a very hard thing to do, which he found to both exhilarating and worrisome. He never thought himself to be a man of such violence but now that he’d lost Dorian, Basil hadn’t seen much of a reason to care about things like that anymore. 

He didn’t bother taking a car from Dorian’s manor to the theatre. He walked the entire way and stopped by his studio for a dagger he hid away in one of his paint boxes, in case of a break-in. The walk gave him time to come up with something to say to the pitiful man that his Dorian had become so attached to. He hated thinking of his voice, his face, his acting and by the time he got there the man’s very existence befell Basil into a fit of rage. He realized as he knocked on the door that it really was his own fault entirely, he’s the one that wanted to go see the play. 

Lucky for him, Charlie was the only one left in the building after the company’s final show of the night. He opened the door only slightly and looked Basil up and down before asking what he wanted. Robberies were common at this time of night and he wanted to be as cautious as possible. Little did he know that much worse was to come of their meeting than a petty robbery. 

“What can I help you- hey, don’t I know you?” Charlie looked him over again before opening the door fully, “You’re the gentleman that comes here all the time! What can I do you for sir?” 

Basil snickered and invited himself in, “Oh nothing important, I just wanted to say how much I’ve enjoyed seeing you perform.” 

“That means a lot sir, thank you. Was that all? I don’t mean to be so abrupt, but I need to close up shop for the night.” Charlie lingered by door, trying to be as polite as possible while also suggesting he take his leave.

“No, no that isn’t all.” Basil wasted no time, brandishing the dagger and pointing it straight at Charlie’s throat. He led him by the arm to one of the seats of the main room,“You’ve ruined my fucking life, you idiotic, beautiful twit!” 

Charlie didn’t know what to say, he was afraid to do so much as exhale. He hadn’t remembered Basil as clearly as Basil remembered him. He’d seen hundreds of people if not thousands everyday. So he sat in silence, silently praying for a savior and kissing his wife goodbye. Basil removed the knife from his neck and began to pace back and forth, the actor didn’t dare move. 

“H-How did I do that s-sir?” 

Basil stopped in front of him and grinned wildly, it reached his eyes and made him look as though he was on the brink of madness, “I’m so glad you asked! A certain friend of mine and I came to watch your company’s spellbinding production of Romeo and Juliet some while ago. He took quite a liking to you, oh I’m sure you’ll remember him. Tall, blonde hair, the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve probably ever seen in your miserable life. Ring a bell?” 

“Y-yes. He said his name was Dorian.” It took every scrap of dignity the poor man had left not to soil himself in his seat. 

Basil clapped his hands together, the blade coming threateningly close to his abdomen, “Very good! Now, I’m going to make this quite brief, I’m getting tired of looking at you. Long story cut quite short, I love that man. I love that man so much it keeps me awake more nights that there are in a calendar year. We were supposed to be together until the end of the world, until he fell in love with _you _!”__

____

The painter lunged at him, the blade only an inch from his Adam’s apple when Basil stopped and laughed wildly. “I would feel bad about this, I really would. It’s quite a pity for such a beautiful body to be ravished in such a way as I intend. But, you’re the one thing standing in the way of my beloved and I’s happily ever after. How can he see how he truly feels for me if he’s hung up on you?” Basil’s eyes were completely wild now, his sanity going out of the window along with Charlie’s rate of survival. 

__

As the blade inched closer and closer to his throat, Charlie started to weep and beg for his life, “Please! Please sir don’t kill me! I’m sorry, I knew nothing of how your beloved felt for me. I’m not interested in the least, you can have him for yourself and I’ll never see him again I swear on my mother’s life!” 

__

Basil’s head flopped to the side, “Why would you swear such a thing? I’m perfectly aware that you’re never going to see him again!” Without a second thought, Basil drove the dagger straight through the man’s throat. 

__

It was warm and it wouldn’t stop coming, the actor’s blood becoming all that Basil saw and all he continued to see as he drove the blade over and over again in Charlie’s dying body. The throat hadn’t been enough for him, when he became bored of that he moved on to his chest and eventually each of his limbs. He had lost himself in the ease of the motions, how easily the sharp blade dug into his flesh and came out just as easily. The blood soaking through his shirt had reminded him of the crimson paint he used to paint the veins in Dorian’s eyes; if he wasn’t in the middle of a murder he might’ve just wept.

__

When he was finished, Charlie looked like a deer struck by a train; everything cut to pieces besides the mans beautiful face, which he refused to touch. Basil wiped the blade weakly on the chair next to his mutilated body and sighed, “They fight, Tybalt falls. Such a shame to see immaculate beauty destroyed by jealousy, who knew I could be such a bastard.”

__

He made no attempt to hide the body or the weapon, it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Basil simply took a bow in front of what was left of Charlie and disappeared back into the street. He had been incredibly lucky to live so close, it would render him the perfect opportunity to change before going to see Dorian. He wouldn’t dare see his love in such disheveled and stained garments, lest he ruin the beautiful carpet and furnishings. The boy would never forgive him for doing a thing as insolent as that. 

__

After he changed and carefully hid the dagger in his coat pocket, he made his way to Dorian’s manor. It was the late hours of the early morning and besides a family of rats, he was the only soul in the streets. He savored each step he took, every inhalation of crisp evening air, the sight of the moon. For all he knew, these would be some of his last moments as a free man. When he arrived at the manor, he didn’t even try to open the front door which he knew to be locked. Instead, the grand living room window was always left open and he took to climbing inside without a peep. 

__

Dorian couldn’t sleep some nights and would wander the house, looking aimlessly through the window out into the garden. It was something Basil managed to pry out of him during one of their sessions, the boy liked to whine and complain quite a bit. 

__

The house was very old and it was more difficult than he imagined to make his way quietly up the stairs into Dorian’s chambers. With each creak and whine of the wood he had to stop and listen for the slightest sound of one of the servants. Only three people were mean to die tonight, adding another would make it truly a tragedy. 

__

Dorian’s bedroom wasn’t hard to find, the two large ornate doors stood out drastically from the rest. He made no attempt at being stealthy now, whatever happened now didn’t matter in least as only he knew the outcome. The boy’s four poster bed sat in the center of the room, lace curtains diluting the moonlight from the open window. Basil stood in awe and looked him over completely for one last time. The sight made tears slip mindlessly down his cheeks. He pulled himself together though, wiping his tears on his sleeve and steeling himself. 

__

He circled the bed slowly, eyes watching Dorian all the while and keeping this picture of him in his mind. Basil climbed into bed with him, but didn’t touch him. He wanted to boy to wake up on his own rather than with a start. Even though he knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitability of Dorian’s fear, one is usually scared when faced with death. 

__

Dorian stirred and turned over so now that they were face to face and feeling the weight difference, his eyes slowly creaked open. He would’ve gone back to sleep if he hadn’t felt Basil’s hand slowly caress his face. 

__

His eyes shot open, “Basil? What the hell are you doing here, it’s nearly dawn!” Before he could get out of the bed, the painter brandished the dagger. His eyes went wide, anxiety and fear keeping him firmly locked in place, “W-What is the meaning of this? Stop looking at me like that and tell me what’s going on right now!” 

__

“Stop your shouting my love, it’ll all make sense soon.” Dorian tensed at being called his love, their fight from earlier in the night playing over and over in his mind. Basil laid the blade down inbetween them and took both of Dorian’s hands so he couldn’t reach for it. 

__

“You know, I’ve always dreamt of spending a night with you like this, without the knife of course.” He laughed darkly and continued, “Just you and I in this magnificent bed and watching the moon fade away into the rising heat of dawn. We could’ve done it you know, if you hadn’t taken the route you did…” Basil faded off dramatically in an attempt to derive pity from the boy. 

__

Dorian, although unshakably afraid, had no problem reminding Basil why his daydream would never be, “I’ve told you already that I love you, but not how you want; I’m not the man for you. Please, just go home.” He saw the small blood splatters that Basil hadn’t bothered to wipe off, fear rushing down his spine in a fit of chills. “Oh Basil, what have you done?” He whispered. 

__

The painter laughed, “Do you remember what happened to Tybalt in the play my love?”

__

“H-He died, he was stabbed.” 

__

Basil looked at him for a beat too long, his eyebrows rising and revealing his actions without saying a word. The knife laying mere inches from his chest was the only thing that prevented Dorian from screaming. Basil watched the horror overtake Dorian’s face and pulled him in close to his chest, rubbing his hair and cooing his now wracked sobs. 

__

“C-Charlie? Oh Basil, please tell me you haven’t!” Dorian tried his hardest to pull from the painter’s grip. 

__

Basil came in close to his ear and tugged his hair, hard, to stop the boy from squirming, “I had to, you know I did my sweet. What are we to be if there’s another man in the way? How can I give you all of me and you give me all of yourself, if some fruitless actor gets between us? That’s hardly true love.” 

__

Dorian looked up at him, “I am not your true love and you are not mine Basil. Please, I’m begging you to understand this. I’m only going to ask you one more time to get out before I start screaming and wake the whole block!” 

__

“Wrong answer, my idiot angel.” Basil reached between them and grabbed the knife, holding the boy in place with a hard fist wrapped in his hair. Dorian pulled and struggled but couldn’t break free. At the sight of the dagger, he began to cry so hard his own tears clouded his vision. Basil came close once again to his ear, “If I can’t have you, no one will.” He kissed him as he drove the knife straight into his chest, stopping just before it pierced the heart. 

__

The scream of utter anguish the tore through Dorian was muffled almost entirely in Basil’s mouth. He reached out for something, anything to get him away but the only feeling that overtook him was the blade in his chest. His body started to go numb before the shock overtook him and he lay slack in Basil’s arms. 

__

Basil pulled away from his lips and pressed their foreheads together, “These violent delights have violent ends. Don’t fret, you won’t be alone for long my love, my heart, my Dorian.” With one final kiss to the tip of his nose, he plunged the knife down to the hilt in the boy’s chest, killing him instantaneously. 

__

His blood seeped through his shirt and onto Basil’s hand before is slowly soaked the mattress. He didn’t cry, or regret, or lament; what he came to do in that moment was almost through. The dagger was removed swiftly from Dorian’s chest, his blood falling like raindrops between them. Basil pulled the boy close, wrapping his free arm around him and smiled sweetly before sticking the knife straight into his own chest. 

__

His final word was Dorian’s name and his last sight the boy’s angelic, tear-stained face.  


__

_“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine. That all the world will be in love with night…" ___

__


End file.
